CHAPTER ONE

      Quinn Gallagher was dead meat.

      Cassie Wolford marched to the side door of Fire and Marine Rescue Unit Thirty-two in Clearwater, Florida. She swiped the entry pass she’d purloined a year or so ago from her oldest brother and yanked the handle when the light in the security lock turned green. Propping her hip against the door, she maneuvered the large box containing the remainder of her birthday cake through the doorway. Quinn better have a damn good excuse for being a no-show at my party last night.

      She’d asked him twice if he was coming and, both times, he’d used that wicked smile on her before claiming he wouldn’t miss her twenty-first birthday for the world. So unless he was inside hobbling on crutches with two broken legs or wore a body cast from face to feet, he was about to get his jaw jacked. I don’t care if he does have a body built for sin and I want to be his number one sinner.

      With both of her brothers serving as firemen in this top-notch unit, Cassie knew her way around the building. She crossed the threshold into the firemen’s living quarters, slapped the cake on the large dining room table and pivoted toward conversation floating in from the TV area amid the battle sounds of a warrior game on Wii.

      Masculine laughter, deep and sensual, slithered straight to her core before spreading out to spark all her nerve endings. Quinn Gallagher did that to her, no matter if it was his laughter, his voice, or his eyes that fluctuated between blue and grey. Why Quinn? Why not a guy who is as crazy for me as I am for him? But no, I have to fall hard for Mr. I-Could-Give-a-Shit.

      One quick glance in his direction, and she sucked air. Quinn, in his typically jovial manner, was recanting a story to her youngest brother, Jace, and a new fireman she’d yet to meet. All Quinn wore was a white towel slung low around his narrow hips.

      Water drops lazily forged a trail down his tanned and toned body. Moisture dripped from his freshly shampooed dark hair, trailed over his perpetual five-o’clock shadow and plopped onto his collarbone, splatted onto his hardened pecs and washboard stomach, before skiing the hills and valleys over every ridge of his abs. Oh, to be a droplet of water.

      Even though they’d jogged together often under the hot Florida sun, seeing his tribal tattoo over his broad shoulder, left pec and upper arm still made her fingers itch to touch and fondle, especially that strange indentation between swirls of ink that decorated his shoulder blade.

      He was such a perfect specimen of male hotness with those magnetic eyes and firm lips that smiled easily and often, creasing his cheeks with deep dimples. Cassie wanted him so badly, she ached. Yet he treated her more like a little sister or a family friend. She scowled. Hell, why not spray-paint some black spots on me? Let him scratch behind my ears like he does the firehouse Dalmatian.

      The new guy spied her first. “Hey, how’d you get in here?”

      Jace’s head whipped in her direction. “Looks like my sister overrode the security system—again. Somehow she’s been doing it for years.” Jace strode toward Cassie and wrapped his arm around her shoulder before kissing her hair. “Boyd, meet my baby sister, Cassie. Sis, this is the newest pair of boots in our unit, Boyd Calloway.”

      She extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Boyd. Since I turned twenty-one yesterday, I now decree I’m to be classified as Jace’s youngest sister.” Her brother smirked when she elbowed him. “I’m serious, Jace, I won’t put up with being called the baby anymore.” She patted the cake box. “There was so much cake left from last night’s party, I brought it by for the guys. Not everyone who promised to come showed up.” She aimed a glare at Quinn.

      “Hell, peanut, was that last night?” He shook his head, flinging droplets in every direction.

      Did she mean so damn little? She’d had such high hopes for last night. She’d dreamed of a birthday kiss from him, and not one of those baby ones on the nose or forehead, either. A lip to lip, tongue to tongue, make-her-insides-quiver adult kiss. Tears threatened and she fought to blink them away. She would not cry in front of him. “You know damn well it was.”

      “Hey, when a sexy woman shows up on a man’s doorstep with a bottle of tequila and a proposition, he’s prone to forget what day it is.” Quinn flashed her a cocky grin that flayed the edges of her heart.

      The rest of the guys in the unit cheered in affirmation.

      Jace’s arm tightened around her shoulder, his lips next to her ear. “Don’t let him get to you, sis. You know how he is.”

      Yeah, she knew. Quinn was a player. She wasn’t; she’d crushed exclusively on him for three years, waiting for the jerk to notice her. What a fool she’d been to think once she turned twenty-one, he’d accept her as an equal, as a woman old enough to date. The man moved from woman to woman like she moved from one shade of fingernail polish to another. Just how was she to get him out of her system? Maybe she needed to play a little herself. Wasn’t that what tonight was about?

      She breathed a kiss on Jace’s cheek. “Gotta go. Sara and Misty are waiting in the car. We’re going to Iguana Ike’s. Have some beers. Party a little.” She wiggled her hips. “Dance a lot. Girls’ night out.”

      Quinn dared to take a couple steps toward her, his eyes narrowed. Gone was his previous fun-loving insolence. In its place was macho authority. “You’re going out, dressed like that?”

       Geesh! Talk about mood shuffling.

      Jace grabbed the cake box and headed toward the kitchen. “Boyd, let’s get some coffee to go with the cake. We’ll get the hell out of the way, and let kerosene and a match deal with their inevitable explosion in private.”

      Boyd glanced from her to Quinn before following Jace. “What makes you think there’s going to be an explosion?”

      “I know my ba…ah…youngest sister. Two things we don’t do with Cassie. One is tell her how to wear her hair. She’s a beautician and a damn good one. Second, we don’t tell her what to wear. Grab some plates, will ya?”

      Cassie fisted her hands on her hips. “What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed? This is the outfit Wolf and Becca gave me for my birthday.”

      Quinn reached to yank the off-the-shoulder sleeve to cover her shoulder. “I’m betting Becca picked this out for you. ʼCause I know damn well that protective older brother of yours would never allow you out in a black sweater that reveals more than it covers.” He propped his hands over the V of his sculptured abdomen and leaned in. “You go into a meat market like Iguana Ike’s with all that cleavage hanging out and you’ll have sharks circling for the kill.”

      She pointedly glanced at her siren red fingernail polish with black swirls. “Not that it’s any of your business, but perhaps that’s exactly what I want. Sharks.” Maybe the player needed a dose of his own medicine.

      His eyes narrowed for a beat and a muscle ticked in his square jaw. “Don’t play with me, Cassie. It’s been a helluva day, and I’m not in the mood. We just got back from a marine rescue off Sand Key Park and it didn’t go well. Wolf and Barclay weren’t able to save a teen. Booze and scuba-diving never mix.”

      “Oh no! How’s Wolf taking it? He gets so upset when he can’t save someone. Taking care of everyone else is his thing. It’s what keeps him going.” He’d certainly taken care of her over the years and had gotten her to face some painful issues.